


Celldweller

by ZeroNoctem



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Eventual Smut, M/M, POV Jean Kirstein, POV Third Person, Past-trauma, ie; swearing, lots of fucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4827662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroNoctem/pseuds/ZeroNoctem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe, just maybe, Mr Freckles makes me feel a little less lonely. And maybe that’s why my level of despair has been growing. Because there is no chance of me being able to even strike up a conversation with this guy let alone anything else. The fact that he probably isn't gay and thinks I am just some weird little creep who stares at him through the books for a bit too long doesn’t help either. </p><p>(Will be mostly 3rd person perspective after intro chapter)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celldweller

You know that feeling when you’re about to break, you can see it happening in slow motion and you should be able to stop it. Grab onto something on your way down and pull yourself together again before it get’s too bad, but you’re frozen and can’t move?

Yeah, that’s how I feel. I can see it now in my reflection and the shadows under my eyes. My skin looks sickly and ashen, I can’t even pull my lips into that practiced fake smile I’ve been perfecting over the last three years. The worst part about it is that I don’t even know why this is happening now, nothing’s changed.

I still claw myself out of bed every morning despite not sleeping more than three hours max - on a good night - and fumble around until I’m some sort of presentable before trudging out of the door to my tiny apartment. My job wasn’t demanding, not really, stacking books in order of reference code in the Library in the next town wasn’t something that was super taxing or exhausting but I still struggled to pull my way through my shifts these days. The fact that it is in the next town over yet still only a 30 minute drive makes it easier to go, too. At least I’m less likely to run into anyone from my old school there.

Maybe it’s the monotony. All I do is work or spend my time like a hermit in my apartment, I sleep - or try to - Have maybe one and a half meals a day before I decide that _fuck_ I’m not even hungry. At first the isolation I’ve imposed on myself worked, it stopped the clawing anxiety and anger bursting out from all the cracks and hurting the people I cared about - the ones that had been left at that point any way.

I’d stopped going to school, though luckily my teacher sent home study material, doctor's notes and prescription pills a good enough excuse to the system. I have no idea how I managed to graduate with acceptable grades though, I think I only attended maybe 20% of the time. Anxiety struck me even worse when I realised I’d have to go to college, for what? A repeat of what happened at school? I couldn’t face that shit, so I holed up in my room until my mum convinced me to get a job at least. That was better than college any day.

The library is quiet and the only other person who works there is a strange, but genuinely amicable person called Hanji. They don’t bother me much, the only nagging I get is when I go on lunch break and they kind of force me to eat something because ‘energy drink isn’t sustenance!’ Like I care, but I indulge them because they aren’t such a bad person, plus they’re pretty much my only human contact other than my mum; who isn’t even that close with me.

I hate to admit it but maybe my increased sense of despair is because I’m lonely. Which is fucking ridiculous because my isolation is self inflicted.

As if I’d want more fake bastards pawing all over me or using me as the butt of their jokes. They all had such a whale of a time once that rumor got around, like it was the best ammunition for prodding at my already crumbling pride and self-esteem, slowly picking away at it with comments here and there like a running fucking joke. Like, didn’t they have any sense of fucking decency? Weren’t they supposed to be my friends? Because I thought friends didn’t take the fucking piss out of each other relentlessly despite being asked to fucking stop already.

I can’t believe I still get so worked up over that shit, but I do. I thought the friendships I’d forged held more weight than they had, and that fucking hurts. I mean, I got pushed out of a first floor fucking window.

Ok it was an accident, I know that, but you know what? I didn’t even get a ‘hey sorry I shoved you at the window and you fell out of it’. None of them would even fucking look at me when I went back to school. That hurt more than the fall ever could. Sure I punched Eren in that smug fucking face of his a few times, but he’d punched back just as hard; Connie, too. I hate myself for reacting the way I did I really do, but I’ve always been a hot headed idiot and that still hasn’t changed. I just can’t seem to help it.

It was my fault, right? What had started it all was something completely stupid and avoidable - although I’m still horrified by my own inability to carry out the task. When you’re a teenager you’re expected to do certain things, kiss, get a girlfriend, have sex and all that shit and I really tried to go along with all of it. I’ve never been particularly good at social situations - obviously now I avoid them almost completely so I don’t have to deal with them - but I’d managed to chat up a chick who was pretty decent looking.

Her short hair wasn’t far off the colour mine was, she was always smiling like she was gonna do some mischievous shit and I liked that and she was _bold_. I thought that turned me on, but who was I to know that feeling good in a general kind of way and feeling good sexually were different things. She definitely didn’t make me feel good sexually. That was my downfall.

Somehow or another we ended up at her house one day when her parents were out, we weren’t dating or anything sappy like that but we’d got to her bedroom and just started sucking face. It was ok I guess, all I could think of was how fucking slimey other people's tongues are. I don’t really know why it progressed so quickly but we ended up half naked on her bed and I was getting a condom pressed into my free hand - the other hand was shoved between her legs and in the process of getting covered in more uncomfortably slimey bodily fluids.

I felt weird about it from the start, but having that just felt like pressure was suddenly trying to suffocate me because I didn’t particularly want to do _that_. I mean I was kinda hard, not fully, but having someone touch you for long enough made things automatically happen when you were in the kind of situation we were in willingly. I mean ok I kind of just wanted to prove a point that I was normal, I wanted to shag just as much as everyone else and I _could_ do it, too, but now the time was actually upon me I’d felt a sense of dread.

Despite that I’d gone along with it and ended up inside her making awkward hip movements and sweating far too much for the amount of work I’d been putting in - it wasn’t like I was ramming her or anything. It didn’t really feel great though, actually I remember it feeling _wrong_ and my fucking god it still mortifies me today but I started getting soft. I remember panicking inwardly and making a stupid amount of noise and a whiney kind of declaration that ‘I’m coming- sorry!’ to try and cover it up. I thought she’d believed me, I really had. She ended up finishing herself off whilst I did my best to keep kissing her.

Apparently, though, she had noticed completely and decided it was the funniest fucking thing in the world because by the end of the next week the whole fucking school seemed to have heard how I was an ‘impotent fag’. I mean for fuck sake I didn’t think I’d done _that_ badly she’d seemed to enjoy it enough, she seemed happy enough when I’d left that night! Two faced fucking harpy. Not that I can talk, faking being into it like that was pretty two faced of me, too, but I was too scared of the thought that something was wrong with me when I should be enjoying it to care.

The people who I’d thought were my friends started first by just making remarks about whether it was true or not, they’d seemed concerned. But then Eren fucking Jaeger started making little remarks about ‘getting it up’ and because I refused to talk about the incident at all, or respond to the jibes it got worse. Then Connie started to join in, then Sasha. Mikasa just rolled her eyes but there was the odd quirk of his lips every so often like it was fucking funny. Armin, the little shit, just tried to explain away the workings of _my_ fucking body with ‘scientific facts’ about impotence and how to ‘fix it’ which didn’t help because ‘you can try prostate stimulation’ just added fuel to the fucking fire.

After two months of that I couldn’t take it any more and snapped. I ended up punching Jaeger in the face and that started an all out brawl because he was as hot headed as me. I don’t remember all of the details about the fight, I know his lip got split and his nose was gushing fucktons of blood. All I remember is Connie storming over after a while and yelling that enough was enough and I needed to grow the fuck up, Eren too, and he shoved us away from each other where we had been grappling by the windows.

I was unlucky, as per usual, and hit the one fucking window that was left unlatched. I ended up falling out of it spectacularly to the grass 10 feet below. I really don’t remember much after that because I’d blacked out but thank fuck i only had bad bruising on my back and a cracked head - no brain damage or internal bleeding. That’s fucking lucky for falling out of a goddamn window. Best stroke of luck I’d ever had.

By the time I was well enough to go back to school I’d already started having anxiety attacks. It didn’t get better when I went and everyone avoided me like the plague, I didn’t get a sorry - like I’ve said - and they wouldn’t even look at me. Not my friends, not my other classmates, no-one. I stopped going after a week of that.

So here I am, in a library shoving Pride and Prejudice into the right place on the packed bookshelves and wishing it was six o’clock so I could go home and make myself into a duvet burrito. Regretting my first - and only - sexual experience and suffering from a pathetic level of anxiety about people in general because of it. Like, seriously? Even I think I need to man the fuck up and get over it.

Especially when Mr Tall, Dark and Freckled comes in around lunch every day. I mean, fuck if I know why but just seeing him here all the time comforts me. Something about him makes me feel warm inside and that’s both terrifying and exhilarating because I have never felt like that before. But coming to terms with the fact that ‘hey maybe your colossal fuck up when you were a kid is because you really are a raging homosexual’ is pretty much a kick in the teeth too. I didn’t even want to consider being gay back then, I wanted so much to just be a normal fucking teenage boy. Now? Now I can't even function within society properly so whether I’m gay or not is the least of my troubles. I don’t really care if I’m gay, to be honest, fuck it.

Maybe, just maybe, Mr Freckles makes me feel a little less lonely. And maybe that’s why my level of despair has been growing. Because there is no chance of me being able to even strike up a conversation with this guy let alone anything else. The fact that he probably isn't gay and thinks I am just some weird little creep who stares at him through the books for a bit too long doesn’t help either.

So when a shadow falls over me when I’m trying my best to glare a hole into the cover of this stupid fucking romance novel it takes me a moment to realise Mr Freckles is standing next to me, smiling - jesus fucking christ that smile - and speaking.

“Hey.” He says, and the angels sing, and my heart rams itself into my fucking throat.


End file.
